Managing a life period when everything changes at once
Moving, changing jobs, the end of a relationship, an unexpected illness in the family – all within the space of a few weeks. Anyone who has been through this knows how the world can seem like a place that has stopped making sense. Yet this situation is neither exceptional nor rare. On the contrary, major life changes often arrive together, as if they had conspired and agreed to enter our lives all at once. Psychologists even have an explanation for this phenomenon – and the good news is that there are ways to get through such periods without being broken by them.
People have a natural tendency to assume that changes come gradually, one after another, in a manageable sequence. Reality, however, is different. Research in the field of stress psychology has long shown that major life events tend to cluster together in time, partly because one change triggers another. A new job brings relocation, relocation disrupts a relationship, a disrupted relationship affects health. It is a domino effect that is easier to describe in hindsight than to live through in the moment.
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Why the convergence of changes hits us so hard
To understand why managing multiple simultaneous changes is so demanding, it is useful to know what is actually happening in the brain during these moments. American psychiatrist Thomas Holmes, together with psychologist Richard Rahe, developed in the 1960s what is known as the life events scale, which assigns point values to various life changes according to the level of stress they cause. What is surprising is that the scale does not only feature negative events – even a wedding, a promotion or the arrival of a child are rated as significantly stressful. If a person accumulates more than 300 points in a year, the statistical risk of physical and mental illness increases. And it is precisely during periods when everything changes at once that these points accumulate at a dizzying pace.
The brain is accustomed to functioning on the basis of predictability. Routines, habits and established patterns of behaviour allow it to conserve energy and direct attention to what truly matters. But when too many variables change at once, the brain shifts into a state of chronic alertness – constantly assessing threats, searching for stability that is nowhere to be found, and depleting capacities that would otherwise serve concentration, creativity or emotional processing. The result is fatigue, irritability, a sense of loss of control, and sometimes even paralysis, where a person becomes unable to make even seemingly simple decisions.
Consider an example from everyday life: Jana, a thirty-six-year-old teacher from Brno, divorced last summer, simultaneously accepted a new position in another city, and her mother underwent serious surgery. Each of these situations would have been demanding on its own. Together, they formed a cocktail that, in Jana's own words, "temporarily took her out of commission." She stopped sleeping, stopped cooking, stopped seeing friends. Only when she realised that she could not manage everything at once – and stopped trying to – did she begin to find her way back.
Jana's story illustrates something fundamental: the attempt to handle everything at once is one of the greatest traps we fall into during these periods. Society leads us to believe that resilience means managing everything without faltering. In reality, resilience – the capacity to endure – is the ability to adapt, slow down and accept that not everything needs to be resolved immediately.
Practical anchors in times of chaos
Psychologist and author Viktor Frankl, who survived Nazi concentration camps and whose experiences form the foundation of logotherapy, wrote: "When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves." This thought is not a call to passivity – it is a reminder that even in situations where external circumstances are beyond our control, there remains space for an inner choice about how we approach them.
One of the first and most effective steps during a period of simultaneous changes is the deliberate introduction of small, stable rituals. These need not be anything grand – a morning coffee prepared the same way each time, a short walk before bed, a regular phone call with someone close. These small anchors signal to the brain that part of the world is still predictable, and help regulate the stress response. Research published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology, for example, shows that ritual behaviour reduces anxiety and increases the sense of control even in situations where objective control is absent.
Another key element is the conscious reduction of decision-making. During times when many things are changing at once, every decision – even an apparently trivial one – carries a greater cognitive burden. It therefore makes sense to deliberately simplify areas where this is possible: eating similar meals, wearing similar clothes, limiting choices in matters that do not particularly matter at the moment. This frees up mental capacity for decisions that truly are important. This principle, known as decision fatigue, is well documented and is used by top managers and athletes alike when preparing for demanding performances.
The body also plays a crucial role. During periods of psychological overload, care for physical health is typically the first thing to fall by the wayside – and yet it is precisely this that most influences the ability to manage stress. Sleep, movement and nutrition are not luxuries – they are the basic infrastructure of psychological resilience. It is no coincidence that in recent years there has been increasing discussion of the connection between the gut microbiome and mental health – the so-called gut-brain axis, as reported by Harvard Medical School, suggests that what we eat directly influences how we feel and how well we manage stress. Choosing quality, natural foods during a demanding period is therefore not merely a matter of physical health, but of mental health as well.
Just as important as self-care is the conscious setting of boundaries with those around us. Periods of major change attract well-meaning advice, expectations and comments from friends, family and colleagues. Everyone knows what should have been done differently, what was a mistake, what would help. The ability to say, politely but firmly, "I don't have the capacity for that right now" or "this is a decision I need to make myself" is invaluable in these moments. This is not about withdrawing into isolation – on the contrary, quality social support is one of the strongest protective factors for mental health. The point is to distinguish between support that helps and support that depletes.
It is also worth mentioning the role of the environment in which we live and work. Our home environment has a greater impact on our psyche than we typically realise. Cluttered, disorganised or chemically burdened spaces increase mental load and contribute to a sense of chaos. Conversely, a simple, clean and natural environment – whether that means an orderly desk, natural scents in a room, or the absence of unnecessary objects – helps the brain to calm down and focus. This is not an aesthetic whim, but a well-supported psychological principle that underlies the phenomena of minimalism and mindful consumption.
Natural materials, products free of unnecessary chemicals, and an environment that does not burden the senses or the body prove to be a meaningful choice precisely during those periods when inner capacity is at its minimum. When a person has no energy to deal with complex situations, it helps if at least their immediate surroundings function simply and without unnecessary complications. This approach, moreover, extends beyond individual benefit – choosing sustainable and ecological products also reduces one's environmental footprint, which in itself contributes to a sense of meaning and alignment with one's own values.
So what does the path through a period when everything changes at once actually look like? It is not a straight line, but more of a spiral – sometimes it seems as though one has returned to a place already visited, but in reality one is always a little higher than before. The key is not the absence of falling, but the ability to get back up – not necessarily immediately, but gradually, supported by small certainties, by those close to us, and by conscious self-care.
Change itself is not the enemy. Often it is precisely the convergence of multiple changes at once that – however painful – opens space for profound transformation. It forces us to reassess our priorities, let go of what burdens us unnecessarily, and find a new way of living. Many people who have passed through such a period describe it in retrospect as one of the most important moments of their lives – not despite how difficult it was, but because of it.
